


Strange Bedfellows

by vienn_peridot



Series: Orders Up [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Consentacles, Developing Relationship, Exhibitionism, Fluff and Smut, Other, Oviposition, Rung is a MESSY overloader, Semi-Public Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tentacle Monsters, hand-wavy science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-17 12:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5870497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rung and Wing have been dating for a while now.<br/>An unforgettable night reveals that they have far more in common in the berth than they ever thought possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SparkBeat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkBeat/gifts).



> This fic was commissioned by Sparkbeat. Thank you for commissioning me!

 Perceptor stared at the open cage in dismay.

The amorphous fuzzy creature Drift had dubbed an ‘oversized Tribble’ had escaped; possibly due to the technical difficulties the Lost Light was currently experiencing but a prankster was the more likely cause.

In any case the harmless, overly affectionate thing was now at large in a ship full of trigger-happy mechanisms.

And he couldn’t broadcast a general alert to notify everyone.

They were currently passing through a very pretty nebula whose radiation had the unfortunate effect of interfering with wireless communication, meaning that comms were essentially down.

_All_ comms.

Not just the shipwide systems but also internal mech-to-mech comms and 90% of a Cybertronian's EMF senses.

Perceptor knew that they would be clearing the nebula within the next cycle, but that was simply too long to wait to inform people of the escape.

Sighing, he plugged into a console and sent an all-systems alert for mechanisms to keep an optic out for the creature and advise him of its location at the earliest possible opportunity.

The ‘Tribble creature’ wasn’t dangerous to Cybertronian life, but it _did_ feed by absorbing the EM emissions produced by positive emotions and its habit of trying to wrap itself around a mech like an overly friendly blanket could be alarming to the uninitiated. Rudimentary communication was possible due to the Tribble-creature’s simple biofield; but Perceptor didn’t trust certain members of the crew to remember this if they a giant fuzzy blob attempted to cuddle them without warning.

All he could really do was stay connected to the Lost Light, waiting for replies and hoping that the crew remembered to plug into the ship’s hardline datanet at some point in the night.

_I hope nobody panics and shoots it. I rather like the beast._


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a good thing these two have chaperons...

So far as Rung was concerned, the nebula’s radiation was a mixed blessing.

Since many of his regular patients reverted to comms when distressed he had postponed a lot of their face-to-face sessions in order to save everyone a great deal of unnecessary frustration. This had the effect of leaving him with a lot of unforeseen free time to spend with a certain jet. It was absolutely invaluable with a young relationship like theirs and Rung was determined to make the most of the unexpected opportunity to spend more time with Wing.

So they were at Swerve’s for Quiz Night; an event Rung hadn’t been able to attend before and had always left Wing feeling completely out of his depth given how much the jet had missed while living on Theophany.

Rather annoyingly, as soon as they’d entered the bar both Ultra Magnus _and_ Megatron had approached, declaring themselves to be the couple’s chaperones for the evening. So Knight and Therapist found themselves on opposite sides of a booth and penned in by the larger frames of their companions, forced to make polite small talk and actually _try_ to participate in the friendly contest.

Rung suspected that Minimus had worn the Magnus Armour tonight purely to intimidate the jet. Apparently the entire crew was concerned with ensuring that Wing treated the orange mech with _absolute_ propriety when in public.

_I appreciate the concern for my happiness but everyone seems to think I’m some innocent who has never even been kissed! If only they knew…_

 

### ~V~V~V~

 

Wing appreciated their chaperones’ ability to explain some of the events behind certain Quiz Night questions but he was becoming increasingly frustrated with his inability to touch Rung. He wanted to be able to feel that bright, warm EMF against his own and couldn’t because of the radiation effects on his comms and sensors.

 _Wait; that nebula means Magnus and Megatron can’t sense_ us _, either…_

Longing combined with mischievous impulse and Wing deciding to take advantage of the mass EMF insensitivity the nebula caused. Slouching a little, he stretched one long leg out under the table to quietly stroke a pede up and down the armour of Rung’s lower leg. The smaller mech twitched when Wing made contact but effortlessly maintained his façade of cheerful respectability. A clear pulse of challenge in Rung’s EMF made Wing’s Spark spin faster.

So he tried to help with the quiz and made small talk with their chaperones while sneakily working his pedetip up the plating of Rung’s legs, tickling the smaller mech’s knee joint and moving upwards to skim smooth thighs. He stopped about midway up Rung’s thigh, unsure of how far he could take this despite the faint pulse of _arousal/encouragement_ he could just make out through their plating-to-plating contact. An ache in his backstruts from slouching made the decision for him and Wing was about to start moving his pede back down when Rung shifted position.

Somehow making the move look completely natural, Rung slid forward and tucked his pedes up underneath his frame. Outwardly this was to get better access to the datapad they were entering their quiz answers on, since so far it had been just out of his reach. Wing knew better, as this move had brought a very warm section of crotch plating into contact with the top of his pede.

With a massive effort of will Wing kept himself from staring at Rung and possibly giving their game away.

Thinking Rung would probably sit back soon, Wing smiled innocently across the table and twitched his pede against Rung’s crotch armour, just barely brushing it.  

Rung ignored him, answering a question from Megatron and settling his weight firmly against Wing’s pede.

He stayed like that for the rest of the quiz.

After a while it became almost impossible for Wing to concentrate properly, hiding his inattention behind one of the intoxicant-free ‘Mocktails’ Swerve was serving their table. His frame heated slowly along with the panelling pressed against his pede, the way Rung deliberately moved against him every now and then made it very, _very_ hard for Wing to keep his venting even and his traitorous flightpanels still. They kept trying extend in a display for Rung’s benefit.

 _Primus, I didn’t think he’d take it_ this _far!_

When the quiz ended and their chaperones released them Wing’s entire leg was locked up and it took a minute before he was able to stand and exit the booth. He offered Rung his arm in a Very Proper Manner that earned him an approving look from Ultra Magnus and an optic-roll from Megatron as Rung accepted and the Knight escorted his date from the bar.

There was warm air coming from Rung’s vents and the smaller mech was a little unsteady on his pedes as they left Swerve’s, heading towards a drop shaft that Wing could use to take Rung back to his floor. Everyone else leaving could clearly see Wing escorting their highly-regarded Therapist home like a courteous mech, a _respectable_ mech, a mech who hadn’t just spent the last few hours with said therapist subtly grinding his heated panels against Wing’s pede.

“I had a _lovely_ time, thank you Wing.” Rung said in response to a question Wing didn’t remember asking, his subglyphs holding a definite double meaning as he lowered his voice to continue. “It was very kind of you to help improve the seating at Swerve’s.”

The look Rung shot up at him was definitely teasing, the lenses of his glasses twinkled mischievously in the light as he brushed slim fingertips across Wing’s forearm stabiliser. Where their armour touched physical sparks were jumping between them; without decent EMF contact it had been difficult for Wing to tell just how aroused Rung was or to broadcast his own amorous intent. Now it was clear and Wing struggled with the desire to flare his flightpanels right there in the hallway.

“We could discuss seating arrangements now, if you aren’t too tired?” Wing offered helpfully, suppressing a shiver as Rung continued to idly stroke his arm. “My habsuite is close. The Captains put me in with Drift since we knew each other and he said he might be out tonight…” Something occurred to Wing and his subglyphs lost enthusiasm as he voiced the thought. “…But without comms I can’t ask if he’s still in.”

“In that case I think it would be best if we conversed in my habsuite, as I do not yet have a roommate.” Rung’s voice was serious even though what little Wing could sense of his Field was playful and reassuring. “It would be horribly rude of us to keep Drift awake while we talk about _seating_...”

Obviously recalling what they’d just gotten up to right under the prominent olfactory sensors of Ultra Magnus and Megatron, Rung’s knees went distinctly wobbly for a few paces as his Field flared strongly enough to be felt above his armour, accompanied by a distinctive growl from his engine. Wing discreetly steadied the smaller mech and let his visual input slide towards infrared to see more of the frankly adorable blush as heat rushed to Rung’s faceplates.

“You sure you’re gonna make it back to your place alright?” Wing teased, tracing the seams of Rung’s upper arm in a way that made the orange mech twitch and smother a chuckle. “I can feel you even with that nebula, and you _are_ walking pretty funny.”

“Be quiet, you!” Rung said through laughter caused by the tickling and Wing’s cheeky subglyphs, slapping ineffectively at the Knight. “I was sitting in a _very_ awkward position for most of the night so I could reach the datapad. My thigh actuators are a little strained. That is _all_.”

“If you want to shut me up there’s an empty training room up ahead.” Wing suggested, trying to make it into a joke to cover how his fans clicked on. “I could take care of your issue at the same time; maybe give you a quick massage to relieve some of the strain from sitting abnormally?”

Rung stopped dead and Wing bit his glossa; afraid he’d gone too far and wishing he could take his words back. Then Rung turned to face him, looking up with optics blazing behind his glasses and it was impossible to mistake the naked lust and amazement spreading across the shorter mech’s faceplates and surging into his Field.

“ _Wing_.” Rung breathed, biolights pulsing in time with the approving purr of his engine. “Are you saying that you want us to detour into that training room so you can suck my spike?”

Wing swallowed nervously; despite Rung’s obvious arousal he wasn’t sure he hadn’t just messed everything up. It was so hard to tell without full, proper EM contact. Still, everything else practically screamed how much Rung liked the idea.

_And I haven’t gotten my mouth on him yet. That’s practically criminal!_

“If you’re ok with that.” Wing said carefully, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of Rung’s hands, not sure when he’d taken hold of them. “I can always carry you home _then_ get you off?”

Wing’s subglyphs said that the location meant so little to him he’d be perfectly happy to drop to his knees right there in the corridor, so long as he got his mouth on the other mech. As soon as Rung parsed the nuances of those subglyphs his optics darkened and his glossa slid out to wet his lipplates.

Then he spoke, shaping the glyphs with exacting precision.

“Training room. _Now_.”

That authoritative tone sent electric tingles from Wing’s audials straight to his array and he hurried to obey, not even waiting for Rung to close the door properly before dropping to his knees and nuzzling his lover’s heated plating.

Somewhere above him Rung’s backpack hit the wall with a thump as Wing covered Rung’s scorching pelvic armour with open-mouthed kisses, running his glossa around the sensitive seams of primary interfacing covers. They parted before him, a faint whimper coming from overhead. Curious, Wing looked up to see that Rung’s optics were dim and he had a hand pressed over his mouth to quiet himself. A bar of light from the partly-open door fell across the orange mech, rendering his expression clearly visible in the darkened room.

_Beautiful…_

He looked thoroughly debauched and Wing had barely started.

Small prickles of electrical charge danced between them; Fields transmitted though plating-on-plating contact showed Wing that Rung’s arousal was more than a match for his own as thin secondary covers parted smoothly under the gentle attention of his glossa. Wing kissed the injector tip of Rung’s spike almost reverently as it pressurised smoothly before him. The shaft was hot and hard, biolights bright with the amount of charge built up over the evening of clandestine public teasing. Then the Knight wrapped a hand around the base of Rung’s spike and leaned forwards, letting the complex head part his lips to slide across the welcoming softness of his glossa.

The door was open and it was important to be quiet but Wing forgot himself for a moment, flightpanels shifting and a low, gratified moan of delight rolling from his vocaliser. He’d been fantasising about firm presence of Rung’s spike in his oral cavity for _weeks_ now and he finally knew the reality. Sucking gently, Wing pulled back and set out to thoroughly explore the surface of Rung’s spike with his glossa, licking up the hard electric tang of a thoroughly aroused mech with nearly-silent groans of delight and widespread flightpanels. It cut straight through the lingering sweetness of his last drink and covered his chemoreceptors with a flavour he never wanted to forget.

Rung’s vents were blasting hot air now, his engine surging through a gear change as Wing took as much as he could into his mouth, massaging Rung’s spike with lips and glossa. He wasn’t very careful about keeping the biolights of Rung’s spike covered, despite the slight –but present- possibility of someone walking past and catching them.

_Oh Primus, imagine someone seeing us and knowing that right now I’m the only one who gets to do this to him…_

In an effort to control his own arousal, Wing looked up at Rung, making optic contact and grinning around his mouthful of spike. Then he hollowed his cheeks to create suction as he drew off slowly and slid back down, using his hands on the length that wouldn’t quite fit into his mouth as he set up a rhythm that built steadily towards overload.

Above him Rung trembled against the wall, muffling his vocalisations behind a hand as he gradually came undone.

 

### ~V~V~V~

 

Rung could feel his frame surging towards overload, drawn onwards at a headlong pace by Wing’s skilled attention to his spike. He almost couldn’t believe that someone as proper and civilised as the Knight could be so talented and enthusiastic when it came to sucking someone off.

 _Then again, I’ve been told_ repeatedly _that nobody expects me to have the proclivities I do…_

He was acutely aware of the partly-open door, of how anyone happening to walk down the corridor right now they’d be able to see them with little difficulty. Rung shivering against the wall with his panels open, valve leaking down his thighs and the white Knight on his knees, eagerly servicing Rung’s spike as if it was the sole purpose of his existence.

It was impossibly arousing; the bare thought of someone, anyone, maybe even one of their erstwhile chaperones wandering past and happening to glance to the side and see how helplessly aroused he was and how Wing’s extended flightpanels fluttered as he sucked, the way the Knight was pressing his thighs together and squirming a little as his own frame demanded attention but he kept both hands _and_ his mouth on Rung, completely focused on bringing his lover to overload…

A tell-tale throbbing at the base of his spike told Rung that overload was imminent. One hand dropped from his face, groping for a compartment filled with absorbent cloths and the other fumbled at a white helm crest as he tried to warn Wing of the danger in a voice filled with static.

The fact that Rung was about to overload didn’t seem to deter Wing in the slightest; if anything it seemed to encourage him. Gently, he shook off the uncoordinated directions of the small hand on his helm, smiling up at Rung with golden optics burning brightly, pulling back just enough to encase the head of his spike with lips and glossa to mimic the recessed opening for which a valve array was named, clear encouragement and anticipation in what Rung could detect of the jet’s Field easing the orange mech’s anxiety.

Strong black hands worked at Rung’s shaft with precise skill and he lost all will to resist, feeling the head of his spike spread as he allowed himself to overload into the jet’s willing mouth. Arching forwards, Rung hissed through his denta as pleasure burst through his frame and flooded down his legs in a warm wave. Clinging to the kneeling Knight’s turbines he shuddered and groaned, pumping thick fluid into Wing’s mouth as the Knight purred happily and swallowed.

And swallowed.

And _swallowed_.

When it finally ended Rung straightened up shakily, letting go of warm turbines and leaning on the wall for support. He could feel the gust of Wing’s vents clearly on the lubricant-slicked metal of his legs; the overflow from his valve having been enough to wet the inside of his thighs clear down to his knee joints. He looked down just in time to see Wing let the head of his depressurising spike slip from his mouth, dragging through the sticky silver that had run down his chin during Rung’s overload. The Knight cleaned Rung’s spike with gentle sweeps of his glossa and tucked it away with careful fingers, smiling beatifically up at Rung as the orange mech slowly got control of his vents again.

 “I’m so sorry.” Rung kept his voice low, intensely aware of the door standing slightly ajar next to them. “I tried to warn you; I- um, there is an oddity to my frametype that makes me a messy overloader. Here, please, let me help.”

He finally managed to pull a cleaning cloth from a compartment but Wing beat him to it; licking at the silver mess coating the lower part of his face in a way made Rung want to pin him to the deck and lick it off himself. The jet was purring, radiating an intense amount of heat and arousal so strong it was palpable even with the EMF-dampening effect of the nebula. Wing let him clean the parts he couldn’t reach; carefully cleansing the jet’s smiling faceplates of his overload.

“I don’t mind.” Wing’s voice was a low, velvety purr in the dim training room; shyness tinted the lust in his Field as he continued speaking. “I actually like it. When things get messy, I mean.”

“I must admit that I am _very_ relieved to hear that.” Rung admitted softly, putting the soiled cloth into a different compartment and taking Wing’s face in both hands, kissing him. “My past experience is that _does_ tend to put people off, at least a little.”

“ _Definitely_ not put off, Rung.” Wing breathed against his lipplates. Rung’s Spark soared as the jet nuzzled gently at his nasal ridge. “And definitely not averse to cleaning you up so we can get back to your habsuite without Red or Ultra Magnus blowing a fuse.”

“What…” Rung started to ask as mischief filled the buzz of Wing’s EMF and the jet ducked his helm. Then a wet glossa on his plating reminded him of feeling warm lubricant flooding down his legs during that spectacular overload. “Oh. _Oh_.”

Still purring, the jet set to work; starting close to Rung’s knee joints and slowly working his way upwards. Long, luxurious strokes of his glossa over warm plating, the dextrous tip working into seams to ensure no traces were left to give them away. Blushing furiously, Rung trembled against the wall and silently thanked Primus for allowing him to cross paths with this mech who only seemed to get better the more Rung got to know him.

 _I had_ no idea _he was into this kind of thing! Primus, how did I get this lucky?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~The Magnus Armour was DEFINITELY worn to intimidate. Everyone is pretty protective of Rung and wants to make sure Wing is worthy of him. (And entire ship of mechs acting like protective older siblings. Oh dear.)  
> ~Rung is rather embarrassed by how messy his overloads are. This is why Wing hasn't gotten to give him oral yet.  
> ~I'm playing with some spike+valve headcanons I haven't gotten to use much yet where 'Sticky' interfacing is for social bonding rather than reproduction. The transfer of nanites+charge provides a useful systems boost for the receiving mech.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The missing Tribble-creature found Rung's electric blanket.  
> Then Rung and Wing find it and they get along surprisingly well.

They slipped out of the training room unnoticed, smothering giggles as they held hands and hurried back to Rung’s habsuite. Every few steps they traded a sideways glances and knowing smiles, enjoying the lingering thrill of their brief dalliance in the training room.

Rung was extremely glad that they passed nobody in the halls; feeling as if everyone would know what they’d done just by looking at them, even though he knew such thoughts were absurd. Still, he couldn’t help the flush that heated his faceplates every time he glanced up at the jet, catching Wing’s optics and remembered the world-shattering things the jet could with his mouth.

_Why didn’t I let him do that sooner?_

His charge was rising again, helped along by the unrelieved arousal he could just make out thrumming through Wing’s EMF. Rung was hyperaware of the distance between them, the strong black fingers intertwined with his. He longed feel the jet between his thighs, sliding through his wet passage in that slow, sweet way of his until he socketed in and filled Rung’s chamber with a generous flood of nanites and charge.

 _Primus, my frame always feels so_ light _as it absorbs what he gives me…_

However he couldn’t help worrying that the Knight would shy away from him if -or when- Rung revealed the depths of carnal depravity he would revel in with a willing partner.

Once they were safely inside Rung’s habsuite they turned took a long look at each other and simultaneously burst into laughter; slight nervous tension evaporating along with Rung’s worries as Wing caught the smaller mech around the waist, spinning him around and around while his brilliant smile warmed Rung clear through to the centre of his Spark.

“I had no _idea_ you were into that kind of thing.” Wing said; a combination of approval and delight in his subglyphs and the rapid pulsing of his Field where their armour touched. “That was _so_ hot. _You_ looked so hot; Rung you were _incredible_.”

“I could say the same of you and it would be infinitely more valid. You did all of the work, after all.” Rung’s gyros struggled to keep up with the rate at which Wing was spinning around and he welcomed the dizziness, accompanied as it was by warm white plating against his. “I have absolutely no objections to doing that again, although I must admit you don’t strike me as the exhibitionist type.”

Abruptly Wing stopped spinning, giving Rung a soft almost-smile as he held him close.

“I’m not entirely the wholesome pillar of propriety I seem to be on the surface, Rung.”  His glyphs were hesitant, revealing more about his past than the Knight probably intended.

Rung wrapped his arms around the jet’s neck and pressed their forehelms together, gently tracing the edge of one warm, tucked-back cheek flare with his fingertips.

“I am much the same.” Rung said, “This is a conversation we need to have, perhaps tomorrow morning over energon? I believe it would be best to approach the subject well-rested.”

“Good idea.” Wing said, nuzzling Rung’s neck cables. “What would you like to do tonight?”

Rung pretended to think as Wing carried him slowly towards his berthroom.

“Would you stay?” He always asked; he couldn’t help it. Even though he knew full well by this point that if neither of them had an early shift the next cycle Wing would stay the night. “I want to feel you in me and then recharge by your side, if you are amenable?”

Wing was very amenable to that idea, responding with a pleased trill and a kiss that turned Rung’s struts to rubber. Somehow in between removing their extra kit –backpack discarded, short blades and Greatsword all placed carefully on a table- Rung ended up half-climbing the Knight, slender legs wrapped around the jet’s waist, fingers occupied with stroking deliciously smooth turbines. He licked his way down Wing’s neck cables as the Knight carried him to the berthroom, supporting his smaller frame with the easy strength of his frametype.

“Rung, your berth…” Wing had stopped just inside the berthroom door. He sounded awed, even though Rung knew full well that the jet had seen his berth before.

“I’ve told you before, this hab used to belong to a triplechanger. Nobody seems to remember the fact and I quite like having a large berth.” Rung’s glyphs were more abrupt that he really intended but Wing had stopped kissing his antenna and Rung was impatient for him to get back to it. “ _Especially_ when I have someone to share it with.”

“I am delighted beyond words that you have chosen to share with me.” The faint pulse of Wing’s Field against his plating was filled with indecipherable emotion as he laid Rung down on an unexpectedly soft surface, covering the smaller mech with his frame. “ _Thank you_ , Rung.”

Smiling so broadly his faceplates ached a little, Rung reached up and pulled Wing’s helm down to his, wrapping his arms around the jet’s neck and kissing him soundly as he stretched one arm _just_ far enough to tease the folded flightpanels. Smooth white armour slid against his and Wing moaned into his mouth, the sound of his pelvic armour transforming aside audible even over the drone of their vents. Rung’s opened a fraction of a second later, freeing a wave of lubricant to run over the curve of his aft. For once he didn’t mind how much his frame produced, focusing on Wing’s glossa and not how ridiculous he must look.

The berth rippled beneath his backplates and for one dizzy moment Rung thought he was hallucinating as a strange Field pressed against his own. A low rumbling sound not unlike a purr came from _below_ instead of above, confusing his audials as he tried to work out what had happened. Then Wing let out a startled cry and tried to jerk backwards, away from Rung, only to be restrained by something soft and dark wrapped around his forearms.

There was only one thing Rung had seen on the ship to match those stubby tentacles, and the way the short fur-covered limbs retreated from Wing as fear shot through the Knight’s Field confirmed the identity of their unexpected berthmate.

“Wing, it’s the creature from Perceptor’s lab. It must have escaped its enclosure somehow.” Rung said, forcing himself to relax and trying to project calm even though the nebula’s radiation meant it wouldn’t work very well. “It is attracted to positive EMF resonances.”

A loud purring from below Rung and short, boneless appendages rubbing at his helm supported what he was saying. The rudimentary EM Field of the creature projected probed at his, questioning and affectionate, feeling rather like a tame cybercat.

“I’ve never seen it before.” Wing sounded a little shaken but he hadn’t done more than sit on his heels, bare array still distractingly close to Rung’s own. “Drift described it as something like a giant Tribble crossed with an amoeba, but I haven’t Star Trek so I didn’t know what he meant. Um…why was it on your berth?”

Rung gasped as the creature wrapped one fuzzy limb around his antenna, exploring curiously at first and then deliberately stroking the warm metal when pleasure flooded through Rung’s frame and out into his Field where the creature pressed against much of his plating could feel it.

“I have that powered heating blanket; maybe it was searching for a heatsource that wouldn’t panic?” Rung couldn’t control the way static fuzzed his voice as the creature purred, exploring his frame with short tentacles that extended apparently at whim from the larger mass of its body. “ _Ah_ \- do you think Perceptor knows it’s missing?”

Wing seemed hypnotised by the way the creature was investigating Rung’s frame, drawing gasps and involuntary twitches of pleasure from the orange mech despite the alien nature of its touch. His contact with the Knights armour –and by extension his Field- was minimal, but Rung could definitely tell that Wing was still aroused and seemed to be enjoying the unintentional show.

“I don’t _think_ so.” Wing said slowly, “He wasn’t at Quiz Night but I don’t know if he will be at the lab tonight, either. Drift said something about Ratchet and getting the workaholics to come out and play.” He watched two fuzzy appendages stroke around Rung’s chestplates. “It doesn’t _seem_ like it means any harm, at any rate… and it _did_ let go of me as soon as I spooked.”

“Yes,” Rung struggled to speak coherently as a purring and very happy creature explore his frame with soft limbs, lingering anywhere that got an agreeable response. “So far as Perceptor has been able to determine it –ah!- will withdraw _oooh,_ withdraw from c-contact if it detects a negative EM response.”

It was pleasurable torture; restrained and teased by the creature with Wing watching drove Rung’s arousal to new heights, his spike so hard now that it nearly brushed his abdominal armour and lubricant flowed in a steady stream from his desperately empty valve. He wriggled and moaned, almost beyond being able to control his actions with his processors so fogged by lust. Only that little nagging worry in the back of his processor kept Rung from breaking down and begging Wing to frag him right then and there.

 _Please, please don’t think I’m a revolting, perverted old mech._ Please _don’t hate me…_

“Is it always this amorous?” Wing sounded thoughtful. He ran a strong hand gently along a fur-covered tentacle that had Rung’s thigh trapped, pressing the limb back to bare the smaller mech’s valve to better effect. The creature helpfully adjusted its grip to keep Rung’s leg in the new position.

“N-no, but I don’t know if Perceptor has tried…” Rung lost his train of thought as Wing settled between his spread thighs, completely forgetting what he was saying. “Wing?”

The jet laughed.

“He _definitely_ hasn’t tried me,” Wing’s subglyphs were teasing and he gently rubbed the tentacles on Rung’s thighs. “Um, is it alright if we…? Like this?”

Rung's Spark nearly burst from his chest with relief and joy as he realised what Wing was offering. The creature responded to Wing’s touch by drawing Rung’s legs farther apart and the orange mech whimpered, trying to push the desperation he felt out into his Field and twitching his hips up at the Knight hovering uncertainly over him.

_Blasted nebula!_

Beyond words as the creature stroked his antenna again Rung nodded desperately, begging with his optics and shaping the glyph for ‘please’ with silent lipplates. Where their plating touched he could feel _relief/joy/lust_ surging through Wing as the Knight positioned himself over and against Rung’s smaller frame, a brilliant smile on his faceplates as he lowered his helm to kiss Rung gently.

 

### ~V~V~V~V~V~

 

Wing couldn’t stop smiling as he kissed Rung; he’d never imagined the smaller mech would be willing to let Wing suck his spike in the training room, let alone do something as flat-out kinky as _this_.

It was more than anything he’d ever expected, more than anything he’d dared to hope for.

Rung was moaning wantonly beneath him, arching up deliciously against his frame and begging in between increasingly desperate kisses. Finally Wing decided to give in to Rung’s pleas and the demands of his own aching spike, reaching between their frames and skimming over some of the creature’s fuzzy limbs as he grasped his spike and guided it to the entrance of Rung’s valve.

Below him Rung was so worked up he appeared to be on the verge of tears as Wing slid the head of his spike through the therapist’s incredibly slippery folds and carefully fit the head of his spike into the slightly-too-tight opening before letting go of his shaft. He knew from experience that Rung would adjust far more quickly than another mechanism of his size might, but it was always better to be careful

But this time instead of his usual careful, controlled entry Wing felt himself jerked forward, slamming himself to the hilt in Rung’s welcoming valve in a single uncontrolled jerk.

Astonishingly Rung howled with bliss, helm thrown back and unmistakable ecstasy filling the barely-there fuzz of his EMF. Warm, soft bands around Wing’s thighs told him where the sudden push had come from and he shivered with lust at the thought of fragging Rung like a puppet, movement commanded by some other being. Rung’s callipers were surging around his spike, random squeezing evening out into a pulsing encouragement. The smaller mech's thighs were still being held wide open as in in offering, Wing provided with perfect access to that deliciously snug valve.

“Please, Wing.” Rung begged in a voice that was mostly static, hips jerking uselessly. “ _Move_.”

“Alright.” Wing forced out between gritted denta as a long, furry tentacle snaked up to explore his turbines.

 _I’d better lock them off. Percy’ll_ kill _me if I hurt his pet_.

Slowly, carefully, Wing drew back and then plunged forwards again, Rung’s extremely vocal encouragement and the gentle attention from the fuzzy creature had him on the brink of overload before he’d made more than half a dozen thrusts.

 _Not so soon,_ please _not so soon._

By now Rung was reduced to broken cries of bliss and what Wing could access of his EMF was filled with mindless pleasure. Something wrapped around the base of Wing’s spike without warning; the warm, sticky presence somehow holding his overload at bay, allowing him to continue driving Rung to new heights. Whispering a prayer of thanks Wing sank into the sensations. It was beyond his ability to describe and he wished it would last forever as they moved steadily towards overload together.

Then that sticky something began moving down his spike, coiling around his shaft where he moved through Rung’s sopping passage at a steady pace, displacing large amounts of lubricant with each thrust. Rung moaned at the change in sensation, trying to push his hips up into Wing to get more of it, whatever it was. Wherever this strange tendril went it left tingling warmth in its wake, mimicking the rhythm of Rung’s callipers when the orange mech brought his head up, glasses askew and blazingly bright optics boring into Wing as he gasped out a desperate plea.

“Now, Wing! Now, _please!_ ”

Unable to find it within himself to disobey, Wing slid through the slick embrace of the orange mech’s valve, fitting the head of his spike into the recessed end of Rung’s passage. Callipers cinched down hard, holding him in place as Rung overloaded, wailing Wing’s designation.

Wing overloaded with a shout, the complex head of his spike unfurling to further immobilise him and allow the injector tip to extend, breaching the valve of Rung’s internal chamber. Intense pleasure rocketed through the Knight as he pumped burst after burst of thick, nanite-heavy fluid into the smaller mech. Rung overloaded again beneath him, vocaliser glitching on a shriek of almost agonising pleasure.

When Wing’s overload passed he tried to withdraw from Rung’s valve, intending to move to the side so he could snuggle up to the smaller mech without squashing him. Instead he found himself unable to move; held in place by Rung’s arms around his neck and the firm grip of several fuzzy appendages. The thing wrapped around his spike had pushed the head of his spike out of the small inlet to Rung’s chamber and was now pulsing, hundreds of small _somethings_ moving through it. Gentle motions of Rung’s callipers urged the somethings onwards as the orange mech shook and moaned.

“Rung? What’s going on?” Wing asked carefully, ready to maim Percy’s pet if he had to in order to protect Rung.

“I-I’m not sure.” Rung sounded slightly dazed, dreamily happy. “It’s locked on to my valve and it feels… something like overloads. Lots of soft beads and _so many_  overloads.”

All around them the creature was purring, its rudimentary EM Field smoothing over Wing with reassurance and contentment and a strange kind of pleasure. Wing felt desire stir within him again, spike twitching at the delicious sensations surrounding it and his valve passage cycling, trying to find something to grip.

“Are you alright?”

“Very much alright,” Rung sighed happily, nuzzling Wing’s cheek. “This feels _amazing_.”

“Feels good from this side, too.” Wing admitted, kissing Rung’s nasal ridge. “It’s coiled around my spike; I can feel it moving all around me.”

His answer was a throaty little whimper as a minor overload swept through Rung, leaving him gasping and strutless-limp as the tendril around Wing’s spike began to retreat; still palpably full of whatever it had been pumping into Rung. As the creature’s appendage withdrew it secreted some oily substance that spread soothing warmth over Wing’s spike. Whatever it was, it seemed to jolt part of Rung’s processor back to life because he smiled dopily up at Wing.

“Oh, oh _Primus_. Wing I’m so full, I’ve never been so full before and it feels so good.” Rung was babbling; Field a barely-there cloud of almost drunken bliss. “Feels _so_ _good_ , Wing.”

The tendril slipped free of Wing’s spike, dripping with Rung’s lubricants and its own discharge as Wing felt it trail over his frame, heading unerringly for his valve.

“Rung, I don’t think it was don-AH!” Wing tried to speak and yelped as the tendril coiled around an external sensory nub, squeezing briefly before moving on to smear a mixture of fluids around his array.

“ _I_ think it just found your favourite node cluster.” Rung teased, slurring slightly as his systems recovered from the effects so many overloads in such a short space of time.

The jet growled good-naturedly, unable to summon the will to actually get grumpy when the creature’s appendage was moving through his external folds so nicely. When he felt the slightly flared tip find his entrance Wing could help himself; he shifted his hips and bore down on the questing tentacle, popping it inside and used his callipers to coax it onwards, hungry to experience what Rung had described.

His focus turned inwards, only vaguely aware of the sounds he was making or the way he arched and writhed over Rung, Rung who was stroking his chestplates and turbines with shaky fingers, murmuring words of praise and encouragement into his audial as the creature progressed onwards. Up and in, deeper into his passage, wriggling across sensor nodes as it sought its goal.

The creature’s oily secretions mixed with Wing’s own lubricants and filled his valve with a blaze of pure heat when the creature _finally_ located the socket concealing his internal valve. Wing buried his faceplates in the crook of Rung’s shoulder and groaned as the creature did _something_ , easing his valve opening just wide enough for the first of hundreds of tiny gel-like ovoids to pass through. Each tiny globule that passed his valve felt like the strongest overload he could remember a partner having within his frame but took up barely any space within his chamber.

It felt as if dozens of mechanisms were using Wing, taking him and overloading into him one after the other, shocking his frame with endless waves of second-hand bliss.

“Rung you were right; it’s like overloads. This feels so good, so _good_.” Now it was Wing’s turn to babble, shivering as he crouched over Rung with flightpanels spread wide and the creature’s strange organ latched onto his valve, pumping him full. “Wh-when will it… _AH!_ ”

“It stopped when internal pressure wouldn’t allow the smooth insertion of anything else into my chamber.” Rung somehow figured out what the Knight was trying to ask. “I am a smaller mech and already had your spill inside me; it will take longer for you to reach that point.”

With that worry alleviated Wing let himself sink into the moment and simply enjoy, rocking backwards and forwards slightly as both Rung and the creature caressed him, lubricants dribbling down the inside of his thighs as the creature continued to fill him with those strange little lumps.

After what felt like hours the tide entering Wing slowed and stopped, leaving his chamber stuffed fuller than he could ever remember it being. His entire frame seized in a powerful overload when it finally disengaged and began to withdraw from his frame. Wing shrieked as built-up charge released in a sizzling wave of pleasure that shut down his motor controls. He had to be guided by Rung and the creature as he slowly tilted, eventually flopping over sideways with the mass of small gel things in his chamber shifting deliciously.

“So full.” He whispered to Rung and then burst into tired giggles.

Rung shook his helm, fond exasperation communicated through the contact of their plating and the expression on his faceplates as he nestled closer to the larger Knight.

Ignoring the sticky mess they’d made the two mechs snuggled together on the berth. The runaway tribble-creature curled around them and purred, primitive EM Field full of smug satisfaction and what felt suspiciously like the slight discomfort of someone who had accidentally consumed too many sweets.

Full EMF contact returned in a rush, dizzying Wing slightly. Both mechs jumped and the creature twitched indecisively as the renewal of shipwide comms was announced by the strident tones of a priority shipwide alert.

“The tribble has escaped from its cage in the science labs. If sighted please inform Perceptor or Ultra Magnus immediately. It may try to hug you but will do you no harm, please do not shoot it. I repeat: it will do you no harm so _please_ refrain from injuring it.”

Both mechs shared a long look before bursting into laughter.

“I’ll notify Perceptor over text-based comms.” Rung said around his laughter. “And Ratchet, too. We should probably get him to make sure those _internal_ hugs didn’t do any damage. I told him we have it contained and that it is being _very_ non-threatening.”

“It has _us_ contained, you mean.” Wing gasped, laughing so hard he thought he was going to rupture something.

Then Ultra Magnus’ disapproving voice broke over the ship, silencing both mechs.

“The mechanism or mechanisms that befouled Training Room Four with interfacing fluids need to report to my office _immediately_.”

Wrapped in the furry embrace of their unexpected berth partner, Wing and Rung shared a wide-opticed look.

“Put a towel down first next time?” Wing asked, still breathless from laughter.

“I believe that would be wise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~I have a ridiculous number of headcanons about the tribble-creature now D: Skids is the one sneaking it into peoples' quarters. (It likes to hang out with Whirl when he's making clocks and is a happy laprug when Percy gets lost in Hardcore Maths) Skids popped it into Rung's quarters because he knew the Nerdlord would be over the moon after his date. He didn't think Wing would stay the night OR that they'd get their frisk on with the tribblebeast there XD (He wasn't watching)  
> ~Wing thought Rung had a really fancy, expensive fur blanket -.-; Tribblebeast loves the electric blanket.  
> ~These are spike+valve headcanons I haven't been able to use for aaaaaages, where 'sticky' interfacing is for social bonding where the receiving mech gets a load of helpful nanites and a little energy bonus that their frame absorbs over a few hours/days depending on how much they get/can hold.  
> ~Tribblebeast thought their EMFs tasted really fricking good when they overloaded and was trying to get more of that, greedy beast is going to have the equivalent of a sugar high and crash after this XD  
> ~Those little egg-things are basically agar/firm gelatine. Not dangerous but Ratchet is gonna need to pump their tanks because Wing and Rung won't be able to absorb them.  
> ~They don't 'fess up to Ultra Magnus. Megatron and Rodimus have a little 'talk' with him instead ^.^;
> 
> I had an absolute ton of fun writing this. Thank you so much for the commission, Sparkbeat! I hope you don't mind that it got away on me a bit ^.^;


End file.
